Cloaks & Masks
by fionadaydreamer
Summary: Presented as a detective story, dare get a glimpse of my crazy world with two different characters in Paris in the Victorian Era (1870s). Erik vs. Vlad. Two men who see themselves as monsters and struggle to survive. Read if you dare!
1. Misery on the stage?

"Come on Bouquet! Pull the spot light higher! We haven't got all day." Called a man from the stage upwards to the lights where a man was pulling a rope, hoisting the lamp on the catwalk.

"Watch out!" Called Bouquet from above.

Suddenly the lamp came falling fast on the other men standing on the stage.

The men expected to hear a crashing sound. Some clasped their ears and closed their eyes; others just closed their eyes.

Nothing happened. After a few seconds some of the men on the stage dared to look up.

The lamp swayed lightly to and fro on the rope.

Mocking laughter was heard from above.

"Damn you Bouquet!" Called the man who assured Bouquet to pull up the lamp.

"Ha ha! Had you guys!" He continued to giggle; nearly breaking in tears of laughter and continued to hoist the spotlight.

All the men on the stage continued their work, cursing under their breath or giving a sigh.

From the left side of the stage staggered a middle aged man nervously and hurriedly and a handkerchief at hand. "Is everything ready yet?" He wondered while drying the perspiration from his brow. He was well dressed compared to the other men on the stage working, mending and building.

"Not yet Monsieur André. In a couple of hours we'd be ready if nothing interferes." Mentioned one of the men fixing on a lamp on the floor of the stage.

"Good to hear for a change." André spat with a hint of arrogance.

"What troubles have you been facing then?" Asked the man while focusing on screwing a light bulb.

"The same old thing about keeping box five empty for every performance and that of the unpaid salary! It is just ridiculous!" He paused. "Including everything that needed to be done in time has gone today to a disaster with delays. I'm beginning to have second thoughts if I should announce the show with some delays or even cancel. I repeat! It is ridiculous what is going on here!" Answered André furious while pulling out a letter from the inner pocket of his black silk coat.

"Shh, _he_ can hear you." Shushed the man nervously.

"I don't care! As long as you can get the lights right before the night's performance."

"My advice to you Monsieur André. Keep that box vacant. If you don't; there will be a lot more trouble than you've faced already today."

André scoffed, balled the piece of paper in his hands angrily and paced off the stage.

"It seems he won't take your advice." Noted a man to the electrician.

"Well at least I warned him." Sighed the electrician while checking further light bulbs in a box.

**Bang!**

"What in God's name!" Called the electrician of fright.

In the middle of the stage lay a spot light crashed and half shattered at the center of the stage.

Many men began to look up. Wondering who or what had caused the lamp to fall.

"Joseph Bouquet! This has gone far enough! A monthly salary will be taken down to replace this." Shouted a man annoyed who assured before to hoist the lamp up. His face flushed in anger.

There was no response.

"Have you heard me Bouquet? Don't make me come up there!" The man warned. With an annoyed sigh he headed towards the ladder and climbed up. "Bouquet, you'll be in deep trouble. I can assure you that." He spoke in a normal tone while looking around him and climbing up the ladder.

Once he reached the catwalk he walked around. Across the other end of the platform he discovered a small puddle of some red liquid dripping over the edge.

Cautiously he walked over to it. With a tip of his finger he dipped and held it up to his nose. "Blood!" He gave surprised. "Bouquet! Where are you? Give me an answer!" He called around worried. Searching for him.

**Arg!**

The man looked up from where he heard the cry of pain.

Josef Bouquet lay on a platform higher from where the man was. His hands were all covered in blood.

"Mon dieu!" Gave the man shocked. His face grew pale at the sight of it.

* * *

"You're very lucky Bouquet. Only a few centimeters more and your finger would have been off." Noted an elderly man with a long grey beard while sewing with needle and thread Bouquet's right ring finger.

Once he was finished sewing, drying up the rest of blood and bandaged the finger. "Now my advice would be, no heavy lifting for the next three months and above all avoid getting cut again." He noted in a calm but stern tone while packing all his belongings into his leather kit.

"Thank you doctor." Gave André composed. As the doctor was out of sight, André turned to Bouquet with an angered glare. His hands were balled into fists and his face flushed red. "Happy now? For now on you will only do cleaning, organising and dusting until that finger is healed and two months salary will be taken from you. One for the lamp and the other for the finger." He snorted. "Everyone back to work! Everything needs to be ready for tonight!" And walked away.

Immediately every man began to move onward on their work, some ran and others lifted an object to transport further. Amongst the men one stepped up to Bouquet and helped him stand up.

"What happened? What made you nearly lose your finger?" He asked curiously to Bouquet. His glance wandered between Bouquet's thumb and his eyes.

"You know clearly who it was; it was him!" Bouquet answered nearly deliriously with widened eyes.

"Enough with that Bouquet! Remember _he_ is everywhere." Spoke the man, who found him wounded on the platform, softly.

"You're sure? Didn't you have too much to drink?" Wondered the other who helped him up.

"I saw him! That bastard came out of nowhere and was about kill me!" Explained Bouquet holding gently his right-bandaged hand.

"No wonder if you speak of _him_ like that." Noted the curious man and began to walk away from Bouquet.

Bouquet stood and stared at the man as if he said to do something the impossible.

* * *

"Why on earth does my wig make my head itch so badly? Thomas! Quickly take it off from me! Now! Hurry! Hurry!" Whispered a young woman with an Italian accent dressed in 18th century costume to a man with spectacles standing next to her holding a leather box containing make-ups and perfumes.

"Yes, mademoiselle Carlotta." Gave the man. Quickly and gently placing the box on the ground.

"Hurry! It drives me crazy! Is it off?" She wondered while brushing carelessly and rapidly through the big white wig placed on her head.

"Not yet."

"Well get on with it!" She demanded annoyed and impatient.

Silently scurried an elderly man to Carlotta. "You're on in 10 minutes." He spoke softly and left the same fashion as he came.

"What so soon! That damn wig! I'll curse the wigmaker after this show. Leave it Thomas! It will have to wait."

"Oui, mademoiselle." Gave Thomas and let immediately his hands go from the wig that still rested on Carlotta's head.

"Oil for my voice, Thomas." Demanded Carlotta.

Quickly Thomas drew out of the box that was placed on the floor a flacon and held it up to Carlotta's mouth.

"Don't spray my chin. Why do you always spray my chin, huh?" She noted sternly.

Thomas did his best in aiming the spray where she wanted it. With one press the vapor floated into her mouth.

To Carlotta's satisfaction she toned a few notes for singing. Quickly she gave a cough and cleared her throat.

The old man appeared again. "In a minuet the curtains call up."

"Well I'm ready." Noted Carlotta very confidently. Rapidly scratching at her neck. Giving a short curse in Italian.

The orchestra began to play the overture and soon following applause from the audience. Within minutes the curtains began to draw up.

Bright spotlights were focused onto Carlotta. With a short bow and a broad smile she let the show start. She took a deep breath and began to sing. Letting her voice waver like a damp flag in a storm across the audience, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Her eyes wandered over the audience and stopped for a brief moment at one box; box five. She blinked and glanced away but soon her eyes met on that spot again.

Behind a wine red curtain with golden fringes sat a dark shadow there; its fingertips met together as point of a mountain while the elbows rested upon the arms of the chair. The shadow was dressed in total black including wearing a hat.

Actually that box was supposed to be filled with more than _just_ one person for tonight's performance. Apparently not, maybe they left because the performance was not to their taste. Or rather something made them feel uncomfortable, being watched and cause to act strange. Including hearing a voice out of nowhere.

Suddenly Carlotta felt a scratching down her throat and the voice began to fail even more than before. A great itching overcame her head and neck.

"Damn this wig!" She cried out in Italian and tore off her wig. Scratching every inch of her head and neck while her voice had been completely gone.

In the audience few people began to laugh and others gasped in shock.

Before the curtains were drawn down she heard a soft evil chuckle coming from box five.

Rapidly, nervously Firmin and André stepped up from their chairs.

Firmin announced on edge. "Mesdames and Messieurs! We apologize for this inconvenience. Err, we beg you for your indulgence for a moments." He could barely believe what just happened.

"While preparing the opera for the main role by Mademoiselle Daaé." Interrupted André spontaneously. "Tonight we would like to show the act three of tonight's opera."

The Maestro gave a confused look up towards the two men in their boxes. "What?" He wondered softly while narrowing his grey eyebrows.

"The, the, the ballet! Now please!" Stuttered André nervously down to Maestro; hoping to continue the tonight's performance soothingly.

Rapidly the Maestro knew what was meant and turned the pages rapidly before him. Announcing shortly which page to turn for the musicians. Soon Maestro conducted the overture of the ballet.


	2. Another Case

**Bang, bang!** Pause. **Bang, bang!** Pause.

A repeating rhythmical pound of a ball bounced across the office back and forth. From the hand to one corner of the room further to the desk and back to the hand.

In the center of the office stood a desk staffed with amounts of paper, files and books in a careless fashion.

Around the small room stood small shelves filled with leather bound books. In one other corner upon a small wooden table stood a bowl with decanter filled with cold water and above them a small wooden framed mirror was hung on the wall.

All the walls of the small office were painted in plain dark pine tree green. The floor was parquetted with firm oak. On one wall was a small window overlooking a busy side street of Paris.

The ball continued to bounce on the same location, the corner, desk and the hand.

A young man in his mid 20s sat in his wooden office chair. Leaning back and letting one arm hang over the backrest. His crossed legs were half on the desk and piles of paper.

He wore a sand coloured long arm shirt with long coffee black trousers and expanders over his broad shoulders.

His long wavy hair was raven black and tied to a lose ponytail. The yaw and upper lip were clean-shaven. His big grey eyes were half closed glancing beyond the window.

He gave a sigh and continued bounce the ball.

"Bonjour old friend! You seem very bored." Appeared a young man with a boyish face. Upon his clean-shaven face was a broad smile and held half hidden behind his back a folded newspaper.

"What make's you think that I am bored, Jean?" Gave the man dreary with a dry grin; facing slowly to Jean at the door.

"Have you read the news today? Some dead woman was found in the Seine. New facts have been revealed!" Gave Jean excitedly while walking over to the desk and showing the article.

"Oh that story. It's a closed case for me. That woman was murdered because of money; the same old reason nearly in every case I've had 'til now. Boring, boring, boring. A person killed because of this, because of that. Can't I solve for once here in Paris a case where a person or object has gone missing, or least something in that direction?"

"Sorry if I annoyed you Daniel. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"No, not that I know. I'm sorry Jean; it's just I'm bored. I need some case; give me work!"

"And the piles of paper won't suffice?" Wondered Jean crossing his arms with a smirk.

"They're already done." Daniel sighed.

"Oh really!" Gave Jean suspiciously and picked up a sheet. "It looks blank to me." And showed a blank paper.

"Yesterday I've some sketching so I pulled out some blank sheets." Explained Daniel and pulled from a pile few sheets of fine pencil sketches of people.

"Some." Scoffed Jean amazed. "It looks a lot to me and how on earth can you afford so much paper and pencil of its finest quality?"

"Have you ever heard of spending money?" Asked Daniel with a grin.

"Oui but in a different fashion, not for paper or pencil."

"There you go; everyone spends money in its own fashion." Gave Daniel and took the newspaper into hands. Quickly he turned few pages.

There was a knock. Daniel quickly lowered the newspaper.

André and Firmin stood by the door totally pale and had dark rings under their eyes. "We are the new owners of the Opera Populaire. This is my friend André and I'm Firmin, which one of you is detective Daniel?" Introduced Firmin wearily and asked, moving a finger to between Daniel and Jean.

"I'm Daniel and this is my friend Jean." Gave Daniel standing up to greet.

"It is of the utmost confidential, detective." Noted André serious.

"I see; Jean if you please." Gave Daniel to Jean.

Jean went out and closed the door behind him.

Just as the door closed André opened his mouth to speak.

Daniel quickly halted him with gesture of a finger and headed to the door. He opened the door and saw Jean eye to eye.

"Confidential Jean, please! They're my clients."

Jean gave an annoyed sigh and walked off.

"Pardon for my intrusion; Jean is a good lad but too young to be here. Now pray take a seat and tell me gentlemen what keeps you away from a good night's rest?"

André and Firmin blinked at each other for a short moment of surprise. Then took their seats and faced Daniel.

With some hesitation Firmin began. "Do you attend to the opera detective Daniel?"

"No, unless a case leads me there." Answered Daniel while seating himself on his chair.

"Then we presume you haven't heard of the _opera ghost_."

"Only a word once or twice. Please gentlemen come to the point." Gave Daniel lightly annoyed.

"Well this _ghost_ has cost us a lot of trouble since we came. There has been nothing but disasters; frightening the audience with a hideous sense of humor and costing our nerves." Firmin paused. "Until now we've done our best to keep it quiet to the press-"

"Yet over night we get far less audience than we have feared! That is the worst thing that happen to an opera house." Interrupted André.

Firmin quickly revealed a black-rimmed letter from his coat. "We are getting daily threats from that 'ghost'. One thing we can be sure it is a man in flesh and blood."

Daniel examined the letter very closely and held it up to the window for some light.

The letter had a cream colour and the ink was black written with a broad cut feather. The rims of the letter were black. The broken seal was red as wine in the shape of a skull.

"Did the manager before you mentioned anything of this?" Asked Daniel and looked to Firmin and André while placing the letter on the desk.

"Yes he did." Answered André

"Then this clearly states that you haven't held to what others have done before you such as the salary which I can see is a high sum. Why not holding to it? Including box five."

"As you have mentioned it is a large sum. We need it for the stage prop in the future and at the moment repairing the damages that were caused by that so called _ghost_!" Noted Firmin angered.

Daniel remained silent and listened carefully, sometimes wrote some notes on a blank paper.

"We want you to catch that miserable man, _ghost_ or whatever he calls himself. Because last night we received news that he has also kidnapped a woman, a simple chorus girl who has been the understudy of our greatest opera singer La Carlotta. Carlotta has lost her voice over last night during the performance and ever since cannot sing or even speak. Our nerves are close to an end! Please help us detective!" Begged André.

"By all means! Have I shown any refusal during this description of yours? I'll gladly take up your case!" Spoke Daniel excited and offered his hand to shake.

"Mérci, mérci! This news has lifted already a weight off our hearts." Thanked Firmin.

"I fear, you should not _yet_ let weight the off your hearts. The case isn't solved or even close to be solved." Gave Daniel while shaking hands heartily with André and Firmin.


	3. On the move

"Don't fidget Garçon, time doesn't wait! Those background sets need to be prepared for tonight." Noted a chubby dark haired man with a thin beard and a bandage round his right hand from the stage to another man above.

It is a young man with a boyish face and short cut curly red hair and plentiful freckles on his young clean-shaven face.

"Oui Bouquet. I'm just about to be done." He called while quickly sorting the ropes and checking the knots.

"And remember the rope has to be tied well! Accidents are forbidden to happen during any rehearsals or worse performances!" Barked Bouquet sternly and canted a small flask in a quick and careless fashion. Giving afterwards a loud sigh; rubbing the back of his hand over his lips and placed the flask into a inner pocket of his brown leather vest.

"How are things going with the Garçon?" Asked the man who found Bouquet wounded the other day to Bouquet. Throwing a short glance upward to see the red haired man.

"He's young and new to it but not bad as a beginner I would say." Responded Bouquet with a grin and followed the glance of the man.

"Bon. Take care of your hand." Gave the man with a friendly pat on the shoulder and left the stage.

"Come on down! There are more tasks waiting to be done for today!" Barked Bouquet.

"I'm on my way!" Gave the red haired Garçon with a crystal clear voice while climbing down the ladders. As he reached the ground of the stage he looked around.

Bouquet was nowhere to be seen.

"Bouquet? Where are you?" He wondered while walking across the other side of the stage. "Bouquet!"

There was no response or even a sound.

"If you are hiding again; it is this time not funny. What next tasks do I have to do?" Spoke Garçon lightly annoyed.

Searching for Bouquet behind the curtain and continued at the back of the stage. At one corner where many dark coloured curtains were tied together and hastily laid props. Quickly a curtain lay in his way of searching and pushed aside.

Suddenly he felt something warm, soft and moist. Garçon quickly gasped and looked at the curtains. Right in front of the curtains, hanging from a rope hung Bouquet lifeless. His eyes staring in awe upwards to the ceiling while his head on one side of his shoulders.

Garçon's big grey eyes widened of shock. His mouth gaping in awe. Within a flash he ran off the stage. Pursuing eagerly for a person.

Very soon he found the man who spoke to Bouquet before hammering on a prop. Garçon halted abruptly right in front of him gasping out of breath and pale as snow.

"Calm down, Garçon. Take a deep breath." Soothed the man while stop hammering and placing his hands on Garçon's heaving shoulders as if they were brothers.

"Bouquet is dead! Hanged! On the stage!" Panted Garçon.

The man's expression turned from contented and concerned to shocked. Immediately he headed to the stage. He froze at the sight of it. "Mon dieu!" He gave in a whispered with widened eyes.

* * *

"We thought you were on the case detective Daniel! How could this happen?" Remarked Firmin angered, hammering a fist on Daniel's messy desk. The whole desk shook for a brief moment like an earthquake.

Daniel remained cool behind his desk and did not wince on Firmin's action. "Gentlemen, I agreed on taking the case. Nothing is over yet. My deep condolences losing monsieur Bouquet."

"In the end he was useless. Luckily we found a younger and better lad to replace him." Sighed Firmin displeased and took his seat beside André.

"Useless? In what way was Bouquet useless?" Asked Daniel eagerly, leaning his elbows on the desk and his pale fingers meet to a point; shaping the tip of a mountain.

"Bouquet lost nearly a finger two weeks ago by an accident. How it happened we have not the faintest idea but Bouquet claimed it was 'the Ghost'. We never believed him; he always had a strong habit of drinking."

"So you believe it was all connected with his drunkenness?" Questioned Daniel carefully with a twitching eyebrow of doubt.

"Tell us detective Daniel, what have you gathered so far?" Asked André greatly interested.

"Not much but I am on the move to solve the case." Answered Daniel honestly.

"That sounds promising. I beg you, give us a couple of details." Pleaded Firmin. Outstretching a hand to Daniel as if expecting to receive some object.

"The time isn't right to be told, yet messieurs. I promise you that soon the time is right. Now if you please excuse me, I have an appointment, which I cannot miss. Good day Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André." Bid Daniel politely while dressing on his chocolate-brown English tweed blazer and black bowler.

He opened the door for Firmin and André. Daniel quickly shook hands and ran out of the office.

Jean gave a confused look after Daniel and continued to write a report on his desk.

He ran quickly to the next closest alley and halted abruptly. Quick-witted turned round to see behind him. Leaning lightly against the brick wall.

Soon the two opera owners were on sight on the street walking past Daniel unnoticed and discussing further about their problems in the opera.

Daniel had to smile and shake his head; he heard it clearly from the three meters distance of the men combined with noise of the street. Such as people yell to win attention to their stand to what they sell, drunkards singing, a blacksmith hammering and children screaming or laughing.

"Dear Monsieur, alms for an old and poor woman?" Begged an elderly woman from behind.

Daniel faced behind to see the woman.

She held a wrinkled hand out to him. Her clothes were dirty and worn but due to the fashion they were once one of its finest quality.

Daniel detected that the woman was once rich. Quickly he pulled out of his pocket a small change worth about one French Franc.

"Mérci Monsieur! And god bless you!" She thanked heartily while clasping the coin close to her heart.

"Spend it wisely Madame and my condolences of your loss many years ago." Spoke Daniel softly.

"How do you know?" She wondered surprised and blinked with widened eyes.

"It's my job to know." Responded Daniel coldly and headed out onto the streets.

His eyes were focused on Firmin and André. He made sure of keeping a good distance from the men to avoid the suspicion. He was more cautious because he realized once he was outside. He regrets taking the coat and hat along, nevertheless that would have aroused suspicion due to what he was doing at this very moment. He cursed under his breath.

Suddenly Daniel had the feeling of being watched. His big grey eyes began to wander as far the eyelid could give to see. Many people froze and stared at him nearly awe struck of terror.

Daniel gave a slow casual turn to see behind him. Nothing distinctive. The sun was shining through the clouds. Daniel gave a sigh and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on a cool day in September.

"The sun? Mèrde (Damn)! I shouldn't be under the sun! That explains the terrified look from the people. I have to get out of this street and follow the men on a different path!" Thought Daniel out loud under his breath while his eyes searched eagerly for an alley were he could disappear.

The people saw Daniel not as a normal man dressed in coat and hat under the sunlight but as a moving and talking shadow in total pitch black and clear grey eyes visible. As if they were the only part, which were not covered by a shadow. After he realized his movements were all in a blur to the people's eyes and fast as lightening.

Daniel hid himself in a deserted alley. He made a great leap to the rim of the roof elegantly and silently like a cat. Daniel threw a short glance down to the street. Many people were searching eagerly for his image and others blinked and continued on their work.

Daniel gave a sigh of relief as he spotted the two opera owners again. Under the sun Daniel was still a shadow, even on the roofs of Paris. Yet farther away from prying and confused glares.

Onward he continued to follow Firmin and André. Leaping from roof to roof like a cat and sometimes running normal like a sportive man across balconies and big windows. His eyes wandered between the men on the street and what lie ahead of him.

Suddenly his eyes stumbled upon something he did not expect. Well something; rather someone.

Immediately Daniel halted. Due to his speed he slid half a meter onward on the tiles. "What the-?" Gave Daniel surprised to himself while focusing the person walking away from the two men.

A woman appeared out of her hiding place from a market stand and ever since walking on the street. Throwing back glances with a worried expression.

Quickly Daniel paced to an end of a roof and leapt down in a deserted alley. Immediately he set out in the shadows that casted on the street. Following the woman.

She had long curly chocolate-brown hair, pale complexion and beautiful large sky blue eyes.

Daniel recognized the woman from a photo that was shown to him by André the other day. It was without a doubt Christine Daaé; the kidnapped understudy of La Carlotta. She wore a black dress with a black bonnet and a small black purse.

For a long time Daniel followed her as inconspicuously as possible. At times halting and pretending to be interested in something else, then again following her by walking along the wall of a building while she walked in the middle of the street. At the end of the street she stopped because of the traffic.

Daniel took the chance to speak to her. He walked up next to her, throwing a short glance to her, to the road then back to her. "Mademoiselle Daaé?"

She turned to him with widened eyes of surprise. Quickly she ran across the road.

Immediately Daniel ran after her. Nearly an omnibus would have driven over her and Daniel. He halted and let the omnibus pass. Not losing sight of Christine and remained close to her heels. On a street along the Seine, Daniel was fast enough to stop her by grabbing her hand.

"Let me go!" She cried out nearly out of breath, trying to shake off Daniel's pale strong hand.

"I will, if you answer me a few questions." Responded Daniel firmly and a calm voice.

Christine froze and stared at Daniel. After a moment she continued to free herself from Daniel. "I can't! I'm not even allowed to speak to you! He'll kill you! Let me go! Please!"

"Who's he? The one who held you the last few days? Tell me!" Daniel remarked eagerly.

"I can't! I've promised!" She cried; tears were rolling down her pale cheeks.

"I'm a detective, I'm here to help and protect you."

"You can't protect me! He's too clever! He is everywhere. He hears and sees things that other people don't. Once he has found you, you'll be dead."

"I am trained. I am a not an ordinary detective that you think. I don't work for the police. I work for my own accord."

"And that is my assurance against him? I don't want to betray him after all what he has done for me. Please, let me go." Christine spoke calmer still trying to liberate herself.

"Then you where not kidnapped?" Asked Daniel surprised.

Christine shook her head and sniffed.

For a moment Daniel stared at Christine of amazement. From her eyes he knew she was telling the absolute truth. "So he hasn't done any harm to you?" Questioned Daniel.

"No he hasn't. He swore to me that he has no intention of harming me."

"Then why were other people killed? For what?"

"I presume for different reasons. Some were unlucky to have seen his face. Then others like Bouquet, blaming him for all the accidents or making fun out of him."

"The Phantom, who is he?"

"I can't tell you! Let go of me!" Remarked Christine, struggling to free herself.

Suddenly a man paced up to Christine and Daniel. "How dare you hold a lady in such a fashion!" He nearly barked at Daniel while freeing Christine with his white, gloved hands.

Daniel noticed the man had about the same height like he did. Only with the black top hat the man appeared huge. He wore the clothes of a high society, like that of a professor or minister. He was slim with a thick nut-brown beard and wearing a monocle at the left eye.

"This is none of your concern, Monsieur!" Gave Daniel furious to the man.

"Oh, if you think so why don't we ask the young lady here." Remarked the bearded man.

Daniel and the man faced to Christine. She was gone.

"Mérci beaucoup monsieur!" (Thank you very much sir!) Recalled Daniel to the man and an angry glare and walked off. Dug his fists into his blazer pockets and gave a snort.

The well-dressed man with the beard and monocle watched how the detective walked out of sight amongst the crowd, fisting into his pockets and lowering the hat.

The bearded man began to grin very broadly. Soon he turned round and walked down the street from where Christine and Daniel came. After about a half an hour walk he mounted the steps of the opera house and entered through the main entrance.

The cleaning staff greeted him politely, he responded back politely.

While mounting further stairs and walking down a long corridor he soon halted at a door. The door held the names of the two new opera owners. He knocked.

There was no answer. Quietly he turned the handle. It was locked. The bearded man drew out from his coat pocket a special metallic device and began to fumble around the lock. Within seconds there was a click. He turned the handle and entered.

The office was clean, organized and bright due to the big windows. Out of an inner pocket from his coat he presented two envelopes rimmed in black onto the desk.

As quickly as possible and quietly he locked the door and headed to the end of the corridor and made a sharp turn to the right. On the blood red painted wall opposite of him hung an oval shaped portrait presenting a city at nighttime.

Gently he placed his white-gloved hands on the sides of the portrait and pushed it smoothly into the wall. As the portrait was about five centimeters inwards, the sound of some metallic mechanism was shifted and the rattling of chains.

At that sound he lets go of the picture and paced onwards down the short hallway ahead of him.

He halted few meter further and leaned against the wall that was nearly entirely covered with a single huge tapestry. Underneath it a part of the wall began to open inwards like a door. Quickly he slid under the tapestry and walked through the secret door.


	4. Ghost or a human?

"Hey Garçon, help me bringing up all the props from the dungeon for the II Faust." Demanded a young man.

Garçon nodded and followed with the man to a certain door.

Once the man unlocked the door he quickly struck a match and lighted a gas lamp that was positioned on the stony wall.

The man had his eyes wide open and held a hand to the level of his eyes. Looking around in the darkness before descending the stairs.

Garçon gave a confused look. "Why are you doing that?"

"You don't know?" Wondered the man surprised; looking back to Garçon.

"Nope." He shook his head.

"Well, I'll tell you once we've finished here. Light that lamp over there, it's dark as the night in here and hold when ever possible a hand to the level of your eyes."

Garçon did as he was told and lighted the gas lamp with ease; without any fear. The man was slightly trembling not because of the coolness but out of fear.

Once they brought few props on the stage the man let himself fall on a chair that was part of a prop. Giving a sigh and quickly wiped off the perspiration from his forehead with a smudged handkerchief. "So, you don't know the rumors that go on here?"

Garçon shook his head and leaned lightly against a table that stood opposite from where the man sat.

"We have a name here, _The Phantom of the Opera_ or just _The Phantom_. Others call _him_ a ghost and _he_ lives here. His domain begins down at the cellars close to where we've collected the props. Deeper in that cellar lies a dungeon. One of the chambers claims to be his lair so I've heard. The _ghost_ is not to be meddled with and to be taken as seriously as you hang for your dear life. Remember that or you'll end up just like Bouquet."

"Quit with that George or Garçon will have second thoughts on leaving here rather than staying here!" Interrupted a woman walking down the aisle mopping the floor towards the stage.

"But he has the right to know." Remarked George to the woman.

She only rolled her eyes and continued to mop.

"I will stay here as long the ghost leaves me alone. I will respect him if that's what you mean." Responded Garçon.

"You're very brave for your age to stay here. I tip my hat for that." Called George surprised and tipped with his brown leather worn cap. "Now on with the work and remember, be careful then you're down there." He reminded to Garçon while standing up and walking towards the door of the cellar.

Many hours passed as the two men brought props onto the stage; few women came placing them aside and cleaning away the dust and cobwebs.

As they were finished bringing props from the cellar, George sent Garçon to light off the gas lamps in the cellar.

Walking relaxed to the furthest gas lamp and lit it off with two moist fingers.

**Clank, clank!**

Garçon gave a short gasp and turned to see.

Total darkness was in front of him. Due to the sound he knew something wooden has fallen to the ground or at least been moved.

Quickly he turned and paced to the next gas lamp that was already closer to the stairs.

Suddenly he heard calm breathing.

"Hallo?" He gave out to the darkness.

There was no response. The breathing continued.

"Hallo!" Repeated Garçon.

Suddenly there was cold chuckle. "You're too young to know what you're dealing with petit garçon." Spoke a many voice calmly and slightly slowly in a composed tone.

"What makes you so sure that I am a garçon? Why the impression that I shall have fear of you?" Gave Garçon bravely stepping closer to the darkness to where he heard the voice. Standing up right.

There was another cackle and this time it sounded closer and thus louder than before. Including faint footsteps were heard. "I admire your courage, but you're a fool! My advice to you is to leave now or you will never see the light of day."

Garçon took cautiously few steps back.

"That's right." The manly voice sniggered. "It's alright to be afraid. It is a part of our nature. Including curiosity, which I can not tolerate!"

Suddenly a rope flew round the torso of the Garçon and was pulled abruptly, forcibly towards the darkness to the dusty wooden ground.

Garçon gave short groan of pain and a cough.

"Be warned garçon. I'll let you live this time. The next time we meet and all because of your curiosity." He paused. "You will not be so lucky." The voice spoke softly but very close to Garçon's ear.

Garçon slowly looked up.

A tall, slim figure of a man dressed in pitch-black silk suit stood before him. Removing the rope. The man wore an ivory mask designed as a human skull covering his entire face. "Be warned." He repeated; almost hissing like a snake and vanished into the darkness.

Garçon stared at the direction where the masked man vanished. Nothing was to be heard. He slowly stood up brushing off the dust and coughed a few times. Quickly he lit off the gas lamps and left the cellar, locking the door.

Once the wooden door was locked there was movement to be heard in the utter darkness.

Suddenly a match was struck. A pale hand holding the lighted match floated to a candle. The candle was cased around small windows of glass framed in silver metal. The masked man closed the tiny window of the lantern and held it wide before him. The rope was collected in a fashion like a whip tied to his black belt on the right side.

Faint voices echoed along the floor and walls as the masked man walked deeper downwards of the cellar. His steps gave no sound on the dusty wooden panels; at times the lantern gave gentle squeak like a mouse around the handle that the man held to. He walked up to one of the corners of the cellar and knelt to the floor. Gently shifting a prop that represented a statue away from him.

Immediately a sharp whistling sound of a sword cut through the air above him. Then he slowly stood up straight and walked to the wall but right in front of him stood a wardrobe in the style of the baroque. There was a gap between the wall and the wardrobe. He moved it aside wide enough for him to pass. He quickly turned to close the passage.

From there his path continued down a long stony, dusty and dark tunnel. While walking down the tunnel he passed few forks but remained walking straight ahead. After a long walk he descended the stairs that were covered mostly in moss. He heard in the distance few people talking and a carriage rattling with the clopping hooves of horses.

Nearly abruptly the stairs ended where there was water. A gondola floated peacefully on the still green water. The masked man hung the lantern at the front of the boat, stepped in and took hold of a pole to move the gondola.

Gently and selective with the turnings he rowed the gondola through a vast labyrinth of rock firm poles, small platforms leading upwards or downwards and rocks covered in moss. For a long time he rowed past many platforms and rocks until he rowed one certain platform. They were nearly covered entirely in moss.

Drops of water dripped and echoed from the ceiling like in a cave. Gently the man rowed the gondola very close the platform, tied with a small rope the front part of the boat to a ring that hung just barely above the surface of the green water. Removed the lantern and stepped onto the platform.

He walked carefully, watching not to step on the slippery moss. Then walking up the stairs in the spiral until he reached a wooden door that was built in gothic style. He pushed the handle down and entered.

Warm light flooded out to him. Almost all the walls and the entire floor were covered in fine Persian carpets. In every corners candles were lit and mostly on objects too.

The man blew out the candle in the lantern and hung it beside the door on a hook. He took a deep breath and walked over to a chest that lay half across the room on the right side. Right beside an elegantly furnished wooden wardrobe, stood a wooden chest. It reminds of a big treasure chest that pirates would keep. As the lid was lifted the chest was filled with colourful masks of different designs and even shapes.

Gently he replaced the skull shaped mask amongst them and closed the lid. Then he turned towards the bed that stood opposite of him few meters away. It was a queen-sized bed furnished in fine oiled wood and trimmed with gold. Fine thin white silk curtains hung from the ceiling flowing gently on the bed.

The man halted at the foot of the bed and watched peacefully how a young woman slept.

After a few moments she sighed and her eyes blinked. Slowly she tossed to the other side.

Suddenly she sat up looking at the man with widened eyes.

Quickly she relaxed and gave a sigh of relief. "Oh! It's you. How long have you been standing there, Erik?"

"Only for a moment. Many pardons if I awoken you, Christine."

"It's alright. There is no need to be ashamed for that."

Erik smiled to her notation and offered her a hand to help her out.

She took his black-leathered gloved hand and let his hand lead her to the center of the room.

"Who did you think I was as you awoke?" Wondered Erik curiously and concerned; still holding her hand.

"I don't know why. Somehow I dreamed of the detective who caught me the other day."

"Luckily a man came for your aid otherwise it would have been a most unfortunate day. You didn't tell him anything about me did you, Christine?"

"No, nothing." Christine shook lightly her head. Soon facing to the ground.

"You are sure?" Questioned Erik a bit skeptical. Placing gently a hand under her chin to raise her head, trying to see the answer in her eyes.

"Absolutely."

Erik gave a grin to Christine and then turned away. "Those two fools who run my theater have called in for a detective investigating after you and me! How dare they do such an act upon me! Then again something new for a change and it may be a bit of a challenge." He sniggered with delight.

"Erik please don't take this on light shoulders! This isn't a game! Life is never a game!" Pleaded Christine; placing gently a hand upon his shoulder.

Erik faced her. "Life is never a game? Since the moment I have drawn my first breath and saw the light of the world I had to fight to survive! All because of this!" Erik began to raise his voice in anger. Pointing his masked face. An ivory white mask with a smooth surface rested on Erik's face, covering from the forehead down to the upper lip and half the cheeks.

"It is not I who forms life into a game! It is them! You tell me Christine! What choice do I have? What choice do I have with this, face? To get in return some compassion! This is what I have to do." Erik gained some self-control over his temper. His voice sunk to a soft tone. Yet his pale green eyes were focused to Christine's flashing with vivid temper.

"All because of this of the damned face that the Devil has cursed upon me, living like a monster. A beast. Always hiding from the light and being feared by others. A monster, that has been consumed in hate and solitude for as long it can remember. Then I heard your voice, Christine. From that moment on I began to learn what love is. Love that I never had from my mother or a pinch of respect from anyone else. You, Christine are 'til now the only one who listens to me and respects me and for that I shall be forever thankful." Explained Erik holding gently her hand in his.

"Now if you will excuse me my angel, I have some unfinished business to attend to." Bid Erik politely and kissed her hand.

"Please, no more killing." Pleaded Christine nearly in a whisper while a tear rolled down her pale cheek.

Erik quickly drew out a snow-white handkerchief to her cheek. "Please don't cry Christine. It makes me sad too to see you in tears. Very well, your wish is my command. Please stop crying; I'll be back soon." He comforted and kissed again her hand.


	5. Disguise

"Well Garçon, how was your day?" Wondered Jean half enthusiastic while reading the newspaper at his desk. His desk lay right few meters across from Daniel's office. Rocking lightly to and fro with the wooden chair.

"I finally had a performance with him." Answered Garçon while walking right into Daniel's office to the sink.

"You what?" Exclaimed Jean tipping off from his chair. There was for a moment a loud thud. Rapidly Jean got up and ran over to Garçon eagerly.

He was facing peacefully to the mirror while removing the red shorthaired wig. With a hand he roughly brushed his long, wavy raven black hair. "You heard me." Remarked Garçon with a slightly deeper voice than before.

"You saw the _Phantom_?" Jean asked eagerly to know and still amazed. He blinked.

Garçon said nothing and continued to place some cream on his face, rubbing it against the pale smooth skin. The freckles began to vanish and a clear pale skin appeared from beneath. Soon in the mirror a familiar face was noticed.

"Daniel! Answer me!" Gave Jean eagerly; like a child wanting something from a parent.

"Why telling you a second time? I've told you. Is it really hard to understand?" Responded Daniel in composed calm tome while pouring from the jug to the basin ice cold water and gave few splashes to his face.

"No but it is hard to believe it. I thought my ears might be deceiving." Explained Jean. "Tell me, how was it? Did _it_ look like what others gave as a description?"

"The description was hardly the same. It was a full grown and thin built man but strong as an ox. He has his cunning ways with the dark and how to scare." Daniel paused. "Yet there was a spark of kindness underneath that hard and cold exterior. This man has emotions and knows a great deal of fairness due to his experiences."

"How, how do you know so much of his characteristics?" Jean almost stuttered.

"He could have killed me mercilessly but he didn't. He gave me a warning. Strangely, I've noticed he has few things in common with me."

"To me you're nothing like the _Phantom_. You don't scare me and you don't wear a mask."

"Of course I have no intention of scaring you so naturally you're not scared of me. But I could scare you though and kill people mercilessly." Daniel paused while patting his face dry with a towel. "Luckily I don't have the intention to do something like that." Daniel continued and gave a friendly pat on the shoulder to Jean.

Jean gave a nervous smile. "Have you found out where his lair might lie?"

"Not exactly. Only that it lies many meters underneath our feet and it starts at the opera house. It is connected with the catacombs. A vast labyrinth of dust, darkness and perhaps even skeletons."

"Seriously? You're just trying to fool me. Skeletons?"

"This is no trick or lie. It is the utmost truth. I've only had once a chance to discover a part of the labyrinth until now. I think tonight we shall discover more of it and if lucky. We'll find the lair and along with it Daaé!"

"What tonight! With all the skeletons! Never!" Remarked Jean afraid; growing lightly pale. Taking few steps back from Daniel.

"It is part of becoming a great detective, Jean. There are cases where one has to face dangers and their own fears. A detective's life is never easy and comfortable. After all you won't be alone I coming with. Remember?" Reminded Daniel with a grin.

Jean grumbled under his voice and began to chew on his fingernails.

* * *

"Come on. We haven't got all night, Jean. Don't worry, I've got your back." Gave Daniel, holding a flaming torch in his left hand while descending the moist and mossy steps.

The sound of drops splashing in distance echoed all around like a cave.

Hesitantly Jean took cautious steps following Daniel, holding a torch in his right hand.

Suddenly there was a sort metal clanking sound hitting on stone.

"What was that?" Jean froze in awe. His hand trembling with widened eyes.

"It was just my dagger Jean, now get moving." Assured Daniel annoyed and sighed.

"Why on earth did you take your dagger with you? Why not a pistol?"

"What use is it to me when the powder gets wet when confronting an opponent?"

"You can knock someone out by the handle."

"True but I believe it will not suffice with whom we are dealing with. Secondly, I could also do that with the dagger too. Now be careful. Keep your hand at the level of your eyes. It will save your life." Gave Daniel.

"Why a hand at the level of my eyes?"

"If anyone sees his face it's absolute death, otherwise to save your neck from the Punjab lasso."

"Alright. How on earth did you know that? I mean with the lasso?"

"I happen to know my ways with deadly weapons." Answered Daniel.

"All part of this case?" Wondered Jean, stepping carefully.

"Yes and no."

"How come both? It's either yes or no, but not both."

"Your deduction is improving Jean. Sheer honesty, I knew it before the case."

"How long before?"

"You're curious tonight. At the time of my childhood." Answered Daniel while taking a left turn at a fork.

"So young! Why?" Asked Jean, following close.

"In my country there were violent times and one had to learn fast how to survive."

"That explains it." Whispered Jean under his breath.

Daniel's lips made for a brief moment a curve. "Did you bring along a weapon?"

"Oui, my pistol."

"Here." Daniel handed to Jean a short bladed dagger. "Keep it close to your belt incase the pistol fails. I cannot allow you getting killed. Not tonight."

Jean rapidly strapped the dagger to his belt next to the pistol. Sweat of fear were slowly trickling down his forehead and upper lip.

"You will be fine as long you stay close with me. A fair warning; tonight you might see things that will leave a mark in your mind forever. Things will appear that aren't used to be. With things I mean besides the Phantom also me."

"Are you holding secrets?"

"Yes. They aren't pleasant to hold nor share compared to others."

"Something with the Phantom? Is he a blood relative of yours?"

"I wish it were that but alas it isn't. Something far more complicated and darker."

"May I know Daniel?" Wondered Jean cautiously.

"If I told you now you would think I'm mad and then afterwards once I've proved, you'll be afraid of me. So no. Now isn't the right time." Responded Daniel sternly and halted at the last steps in front of a great still green lake.

"Bon! Do we have to swim now?" Questioned Jean annoyed.

"Not necessarily, when there's a will there's a way. Look over there. A path." Pointed Daniel out in the darkness diagonally to the right.

"I see nothing in this darkness but I'll follow you."


	6. Mirrors

"What I have noticed lately now in this total darkness with only two torches in our hands. I can barely make out what lies before me while you see things as if it is broad daylight. How do you do that?" Wondered Jean.

"It's a part of my secret, an ability." Responded Daniel shortly.

"Born with it?"

"Non. Jean, could you please leave it be?"

"Sorry, I guess I'm so nervous and curious of what will happen. I want to be prepared when the time comes."

"Believe me, you will be prepared when the time comes." Reassured Daniel; continued to walk down the small path along the wall and water.

Suddenly Jean slipped and slid half down the water. Daniel was fast enough to catch Jean's hand, what prevented him to fall entirely into the water. Leaning half over the stony path.

"Daniel! Something's pulling me into water! It's pulling me!" Shouted Jean panicking.

"Breath Jean and try to remain calm; I've got you. I've got you." Comforted Daniel. He felt clearly the pulling too; slowly he began to pull Jean up with all his strength in his arm. For a brief moment he saw a human hand on the surface of the water. "Men! I knew there was a simple explanation for this."

"Quoi?" (What?) Gave Jean, looking down.

"Can you hold on to the rocks here?" Questioned Daniel briefly to Jean. Lifting him towards them already.

"If they hold me, I think so. What? NO! Don't let go of me Daniel! I don't want to die!"

"In order to fulfill that, Jean. I need you to hold here for a brief moment! In that way I can end that pulling at your legs! Clear?" Daniel remarked firmly and placed Jean's hands onto the rocks. Rapidly removed his blazer and hat and dived into the water head on like a professional swimmer.

"Mérde." Cursed Jean.

Underwater Daniel found quickly the divers who are pulling on Jean's leg. Breathing with help of bamboo sticks. He swam to them in great speed like a shark.

One of the divers acknowledged Daniel and drew out a dagger from his belt to him.

Daniel was so fast that the divers had barely time to react. Daniel rapidly took the diver's arms. Rolled up his upper lip; there was two pairs of fangs visible.

Quickly the diver struggled in fear.

Daniel bit into the flesh. Within moments the diver stopped struggling.

After a long time Jean felt no more pulling on his leg. Quickly as he can began to climb up.

Suddenly he slipped. A hand grasped at his collar and pulled him gently up onto the path.

Jean looked up from the pale hand to see who is helping him, Daniel.

"Daniel! I thought you were still in the water fighting the divers." Gave Jean relieved.

"I did. Are you all right?"

"Thanks to you I am." Sighed Jean.

Daniel wore on again his blazer and hat. "Come on. We better move on."

Jean slightly trembled in shock of what happened before.

Together they continued walking through the vast labyrinth where night is blind.

Little did they know, that a pair of unknown eyes was watching them since Daniel and Jean entered the cellar of the opera.

They did many turns or continued to walk straight forward.

Sometimes Daniel halted and searched for a trapdoor or secret passage.

Jean remained silent and obedient; follow close behind Daniel. He was still shook from the incident by the lake.

After a long time Daniel halted again to find a trapdoor. This time one that leads downwards where the lair is. Daniel went down first with his feet dangling in the thick darkness. Then lets go of his grip and leapt. Within seconds his feet landed upon a firm stony ground. He looks up to Jean. "It's alright. You can come down."

Jean handed quickly the torches to Daniel. Then leap the same way as Daniel did before.

Just as he landed the trapdoor shut and bright light shone everywhere.

Daniel and Jean gasped and covered their eyes due to the brightness hurting their eyes.

An evil chuckle was heard echoing around the room.

Soon Daniel's and Jean's eyes were accustomed to the bright light. They noticed that the walls were totally covered in mirrors. There was no other door or window to escape.

Daniel cursed under his breath and balled his fists. Knowing very well who was chuckling. Who had him trapped with Jean in this room; this torture chamber.

Immediately Jean began to scan with his hands along the walls to find the next trapdoor.

"I'm afraid it's no use." Gave Daniel angered through his clenched teeth.

The evil chuckling voice laughed and then spoke. "Too right you know, Daniel. Or should I say, Dracula."

Jean stared at Dracula with a confused glare.

Dracula looked shortly at Jean and then walked over to a mirror. It casted no reflection of Dracula. "Yes and I know you! You're not the Phantom. How can I forget you? You're none other than the great Van Helsing! Well done with fooling me into a trap! It was surely done with some help of someone, is it?" Remarked Dracula mockingly to the glass before him. Not able to see Van Helsing but smell and hear his blood and body odor.

Van Helsing laughed. "What? With help of the Phantom? No! I did it all on my own."

"You seem to be damn proud of yourself out witting an immortal." Hissed Dracula, trying to keep his temper under control. His thick dark eyebrows narrowed to a V form.

Jean still remained silent and listened. He could barely believe what he hears. The man he thought he knew so well is someone totally different. Someone evil existing only in books and rumors stands now before him in the flesh. _Nothing's impossible_. Dracula's own words went through Jean's mind. It was as if living in a nightmare where you can not wake up or hide. He is trapped.

"Indeed, why should I not be? I who is a mere mortal to you or better said, food." Gave Van Helsing. "Now trapped with a friend. Through time it will become difficult for you to resist his blood, won't it?"

Dracula faced Jean.

Jean was leaning against a mirror. His eyes widened in terror and face pale as snow.

Dracula did not say a word but his narrowed eyebrows loosened, giving a concerned expression.

"Aw! Isn't that nice? True friendship, loyal to the end although you're still a monster." Mocked Van Helsing and chuckled.

"Indeed I am. I am a monster. A monster who knows it. A monster who knows what's right and wrong. Who knows what is friendship and how it feels to be alone." He paused. Closing his eyes while giving out a sigh. "Kill me, torture me however you desire, Van Helsing but let him go. He does not deserve this." Placing a hand against the mirror.

Suddenly Van Helsing stopped chuckling. "What is this? A gesture of pleading, of begging?"

"In those words." Snarled Dracula through clenched teeth.

"In return for killing and torturing my friends few years ago. No."

"La naiba (Damn it)! Think clearly and carefully, Helsing! You won't be any better than I am; a monster. Think man!" Dracula remarked and hit with a strong fist against the mirror. Facing the piece of fine smooth cool glass. No reflection, not even a shadow casted from Dracula's body and the light of the chamber.

Jean continued in silence to listen, staring awed at his own reflection. Dracula's last few words somehow snapped in Jean's head. Noticing an old spark of wisdom from his friend he knew under a different name. He took a deep breath and stood slowly up straight.

Everything made sense what Dracula said before as Daniel. _Dark secrets_. He is a vampire but one who sees himself as a monster. Needs to hide his true self, just like the _Phantom_. Wearing a mask. Killing for about the same reason, for survival.

Quickly Jean paced towards the mirror Dracula facing and hit with his fists against it. "He's right! Listen to him! Think carefully!"

Dracula blinked with disbelieve. Astounded of Jean's action.

"You're no better than him if you kill him and me in order to avenge your friend's death. Remember what it says in the bible if you're a true Christian. Remember!" Called Jean confidently. "He's saved my life."

There was silence behind the mirror.

Dracula could not help but to grin. Knowing Jean's action and words made Helsing really to ponder deep. After fem moments of silence he heard a sigh.

"Very well. I'll let you go lad but Dracula must die. Here and now."

"What? No!" Called Jean.

"An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. So be it." Sighed Dracula calmly; his eyes half shut looking to the ground.

"No! This isn't right!" Shouted Jean and started to hammer wildly against the mirror.

Suddenly mirror turned slight that a gap was open and cool air rolled in. A pair of gloved hands grabbed Jean by the collar of his shirt and pulled into the dark gap.

Immediately the mirror turned shut and there a sharp _click_.

Due to the strong and fast pulling, Jean fell upon his knees in the cool darkness. He groaned in pain while standing up. It took a while until his eyes where accustomed to the darkness.

A tall strong built man with broad shoulders had his arms crossed before him. His head slightly cocked to one side. "So, you're the monster's friend." He grinned mockingly.

Helsing wore a long dark leathered trench coat with a soft felt hat. Short straight white hair was visible under the hat and behind the ears. A few days long grey beard grew around the mouth and jaw, including a strong scar went vertical over one eye and dark eyebrow. He wore multiple necklaces, one with a silver crucifix of Christ, a silver pendant of St. Christopher and more that Jean suspects are somewhat holy or blessed.

"Follow that passage and walk just straight on forward. You will be in no time on the streets of Paris." Spoke Helsing calmly pointing down a dark passage.

Jean balled his hands to fists. "No. Knowing you will kill my friend; I can not allow that."

"No! Jean! Go! This quarrel is only between Helsing and me. You should not get involved in anyway! Go now while you still have the chance to lead a normal life without fear!" Called Dracula.

"I hate to say this but he's right." Sighed Helsing.

* * *

_Thank you to you all who are following/favorite this crossover and gave great reviews! ^.^ It inspired me to write onward! Thanks! Mérci! ;-)_


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